


if we have each other

by scoutshonour



Series: feel again [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Sibling Bonding, love letter to siblings yes but also to older siblings. thanks guys y'all are the best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27925429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoutshonour/pseuds/scoutshonour
Summary: “You know I love you, right?”Of course Nancy knows. But there’s a difference between knowing the sun comes out every day and seeing it—the first crack of light after the long dark of night, how it illuminates everything, even you, from the inside out, and strikes you with the truth that even your thousandth sunrise will be as beautiful as your first.She knows he loves her. And now, golden from his tentative half-smile, she sees it too.(or: a love letter to siblings, featuring Nancy and Mike, Jonathan and Will, Steve and Max, and Kali and El)
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper & Kali Prasad, Jonathan Byers & Will Byers, Mike Wheeler & Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington & Maxine "Max" Mayfield
Series: feel again [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2044816
Comments: 17
Kudos: 48





	1. nancy and mike

**Author's Note:**

> hi there! thank you so much for clicking this!! just two quick things.
> 
> 1) - i wrote this set in the same universe as my other, post s3 fic _i was a lonely soul (but that's the old me)_ which you absolutely don't need to read to read this!!
> 
> 2a) - i split each siblings interaction into a different chapter. they're ordered chronologically but again, you don't necessarily have to read them all or even in order if you want. they vary a bit in length but still have the same "depth" of bonding and my trademark sappiness. :-))
> 
> 2b) everything is finished and ready to go. i'm just gonna be post them and space them out by a few days so i can edit more thoroughly!!
> 
> okay see u back at the end notes!!!!! <3

“I can do this,” Nancy whispers to herself. She sticks her head out of her window, tilts it up towards the summer sky. It’s pretty, all the stars glittering in the night, the moonlight that spills across her quiet and dull neighbourhood, the pulsing warmth that only comes with the last two weeks of summer.

It’s so pretty. But it’s got nothing on Jonathan’s sleepy smile and how unbearably soft he looks when he’s half-asleep and murmuring into Nancy’s collarbone, their legs tangled, her arm winded around his chest, his comforter lost in their limbs.

It’s a gift to be allowed, to be _trusted_ enough to see Jonathan like that.

A gift she gets when she sneaks out in the middle of the night to his house like she has dozens of times since they started dating.

A gift with an expiry date.

In three days, Jonathan and his family will leave Hawkins. She’s already begrudgingly accepted that she will sob uncontrollably when they say their last goodbyes. She’s made not exactly her peace but something close enough to it that he will be hours away, in a new high school, a new city, a new state, with part of her heart, tucked in his warm and calloused palm. She’s accepted the challenge. They’ll endure. They always have.

But she’s having trouble with the fact that soon, she won’t be able to just. Climb out of her window. Scale down her house. Run the twenty minutes to his house. Slip into his room and his bed and his side. And press her ear to his chest and fall asleep to his heartbeat with her arms around him, his around her.

“I can do this,” she repeats to herself. ‘This’ refers to sleeping in her own bedroom and not giving in to the strong urge to sleep in Jonathan’s instead. It’d be the fourth night in a row. It’s not that she’s self-conscious or unsure of what’s okay and what isn’t. They’re well past that point now.

It’s just that she’s going to need to get used to falling asleep on her own in her too big, too empty, too Jonathan-less bed. She has a year of that ahead of her.

She plants her feet firmer onto the floor. Her toes dig into the carpet to suppress the urge to step out of her window and run.

“I can do this,” she murmurs to herself. She believes it a little more this time. Not entirely, but it’s what she’s got. 

She can spend tomorrow night with him. Maybe even the night after. But she has to limit herself, stave off a bit. Missing Jonathan is going to hurt. That’s inevitable. But she can do herself a favour and maybe make it hurt less by getting used to it.

“You’re such a disaster,” she grumbles as she gives the moon a final parting glance before stepping back from her window. She closes it, careful not to make too much noise. 

Everyone’s asleep like they always are this late at night. Even though Ted’s the only one who has to leave early, Nancy has never known Karen to wake past six-thirty in the morning. And Holly’s still used to—and is yet to hate—waking up ridiculously early, so she’s always up not too long after Karen. Mike’s sleeping pattern is a mess but thankfully, it’s just summer-related. At least, she’s pretty sure.

_Disaster, disaster, disaster._

She knows he’s taking the move as hard as she is. He’s acting like it’s not ripping his heart apart though, as Karen put it during dinner a few days ago, “you’re just like your sister, pretending like this doesn’t bother you when it clearly does.” 

Karen hadn’t said it unkindly, a fond glint in her eyes as she looked between her two eldest. It would’ve had Nancy’s chest stir with warmth if it weren’t for, well, you know. The (very correct, but Nancy’s not thinking about it) insinuation that she bottles her feelings up.

Which. Look, it’s not healthy to keep everything inside. Nancy _knows_ that. But that’s not what she’s doing here. Give her some credit. She’s being pretty healthy about it.

She’s spending time with Jonathan, helping him pack with Steve who they’ve been hanging out with a _lot_ since Starcourt—another thing she’s not gonna think about too hard, but will let herself enjoy while it lasts and hope to god that it does—and talking college, how often they’ll talk on the phone and visit and write letters too to not just survive but fucking _thrive_ at long-distance. 

She’s being proactive! Making plans, making every second count, making it work.

And Mike’s gonna make it work too. She just knows they’re going to be alright.

But she should still tell him that. He should still get to hear it.

She makes a mental note to ask him tomorrow. She’s driving him, and picking Jonathan, Will and El up on the way, to the arcade as soon as it opens. She and Jonathan hadn’t outright agreed but she knows they’re both going to keep Steve company during his shift. Robin too. It’s a bit daunting because while Steve’s insisted he isn’t dating Robin—in his words, “Nance, it’s literally impossible for us to ever date, trust me” and she does trust him—there’s still the big thing of Nancy not knowing Robin at all but wanting _so badly_ for Robin to like her.

Jonathan’s more than enough, and the new tentative thing she’s rebuilding with Steve means so much, but Nancy misses it. Having a girl friend. That implicit bond no one else can quite understand or reach. Loud, silly, and unbreakable love. She misses that.

Her eyes fall on her cork-board, zero in on the photo of her and Barb at fourteen with big sunglasses and so much love and not one care in the world beyond the next day’s history test.

Her heart squeezes. It’s uncomfortable. But when she makes herself sit in it for a few seconds, it warms into something a little more pleasant. A welcome sort of sting.

Barb’s dry, fond voice plays in the back of her mind. It’s clear and sharp like it hasn’t actually been nearly two years since she’s heard that voice. Nancy could cry with relief that her memory hasn’t lost Barb too.

_I love you too, Nance, but go the fuck to sleep. It’s two in the morning._

A glance at her alarm-clock shows that it’s 2:26 AM to be precise. Fuck.

She’s long since showered, changed into pyjamas, brushed her teeth. Just has to use the washroom and she should be mostly good to fall asleep if she doesn’t stay up thinking about Jonathan’s move and whatever they’re doing with Steve and worrying about Mike and school starting soon and the constant threat of danger, but even if she does fall asleep, that doesn’t account for the potential _nightmares_ —

“Oh my god, just shut up and pee,” Nancy orders her brain. Considering how rarely it happens, it’s a miracle her brain actually listens.

She strides across her room, flicks the light off, and closes her bedroom door behind her. It creaks painfully as it shuts but Ted and Karen can’t possibly hear this over the former’s concerningly loud snores that can somehow be heard from the basement. Holly’s room is at the other end of the floor. Mike’s a heavy sleeper. She’s good.

Still, she tiptoes down the hall towards the washroom. She opens the door with her right hand. The left easily finds the light-switch and—

“ _Nancy_!”

—blinds her completely, oh, what the fuck?

Nancy hasn’t seen anything but the vague outline of her brother and his god awful posture as he sits, back hunched in the bathtub, before she reflexively covers her eyes.

She mercifully didn’t see anything worth scratching her eyes out for but. _But_. The fact that she came close is still disgusting.

Nancy swings around, facing her back to him. “Do you know how to lock a door!?” 

“Do you know how to _knock_!?” Mike responds, sounding equally horrified. As if he has the right to be when he’s put them in this position.

“Oh, my _apologies_ for not knocking when the fucking light wasn’t turned on and it’s the middle of the night!” With that in mind, Nancy nudges the door shut with her hip, still fuming. “Why are you showering? In the dark? This late?”

“You can’t be this dumb when you’re this smart.”

She can’t tell if she hates it or loves it more when Mike compliments and insults her in the same breath. “Mike,” she says, and when it doesn’t come nearly as sharply as intended, it hits her just how scared she is for him. “I’m worried about you.”

“What?”

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t be alarmed if you found me showering at two in the morning in the _dark_?”

“No, because you’re weird—”

She grits her teeth. “Right. You wouldn’t find me like this because I’d have locked the door.”

“You _didn’t_ find me like this because I’m not even showering! Could you quit being weird and please look at me?”

She does as he’s asked. Only because he said please.

“Okay.” She takes in the full, unobstructed sight of him. Fully-clothed, now standing in the bathtub. She would roll her eyes at him for all of this, the hand on his hip and flat look on his face included. But his cheeks are puffy. His eyes and nose are a little red. His face is slick. From how he has the ends of the sleeves of his shirt balled in his hands, he’s itching to dry his face. He just doesn’t want Nancy to see or else she’ll know.

But she sees. She knows. And she breaks.

With a deep breath, she steels herself. She has to play this cool. He doesn’t need her losing her shit.

“So you were just sitting there, in the dark, not asleep, just ... hanging.” 

“I’m glad you understand now after repeating it only a million times.” It doesn’t come out snarky though, just a little tired, a little resigned. “Nance. It’s nothing.”

She marches towards him, stands right in front of the tub. She has to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes, which she’ll never be okay with, but she doesn’t waver. “It’s not nothing.”

He releases his hold on his sleeves with a barely audible sniff. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I do what I want,” she says softly. She’s got a better look at him from this close. There are bags underneath his eyes too. His hair is messier than she’s seen it in a long time like he’s pulled it in every direction, the way he used to when he was younger and got especially frustrated and overwhelmed. His lips are dry but they spread into the tiniest of smiles aimed down at her. She holds onto it, determined to make it bigger.

“And if I want to worry about you, then sorry to say, but you can’t stop me.” She tugs his wrist, gestures for him to step out. “Would love to see you try, though.”

He unnecessarily hops out of their bathtub but lands on the bathroom’s tiled floor with a smile so pleased that Nancy can’t be annoyed. “Fine. Worry. But we’re not talking about this.”

She pushes his shoulder, speaking over his yelp, “We are absolutely talking about this. Mike, you’ve been—” Her voice breaks. “You’ve been crying.”

“I washed my face.”

“Your face only gets this pink when you’ve been crying,” she informs him, poking his cheek. “And you’re doing the hair thing.”

“I don’t have a _hair thing_.” He swats her hand away with one hand, the other scratching the back of his head, tangled in his hair.

“You’re doing it right now! We’re talking about this because—”

“Fine.”

“—you can’t keep everything inside, you don’t have to pretend with me, it’s okay to—”

“Oh my god, are you deaf? I said fine.”

Nancy stiffens even more, a wrinkle forming between her eyebrows. She eyes him, tries to sniff out any bullshit because this is way too easy. He’s a fighter. It’s a good thing, one of her favourite things about him, but it’s also true in every regard—when they argue, they _argue_. He never gives in like this.

“What’s the catch?”

Mike’s smile widens. Fuck him, it’s smug. He shrugs both shoulders. “You said we’re talking about this. So let’s talk about why I was just sobbing—”

“Oh, Mike, you were _sobbing_?”

“Don’t _hug_ me,” he says, no real bite to his voice, as he raises his arm to allow her in. He copies her, winding an arm around her shoulder with a muffled grumble. “We can talk about that right after we talk about why you’re still awake and why you were coming to the bathroom to cry.”

She hugs him a little tighter, both in retaliation and in thanks. “Oh, you shit. I was not coming here to cry.”

“Then why are you awake?”

“Why are you _?”_

“Because I was cry—isn’t this clear!?”

She yanks on the sleeve of his shirt and draws back from him. Her back slides down the wall as she sits, facing the bathroom counter and the sinks above it along with the cabinets below. The tiled floor is cool underneath her legs, making her wiggle her toes.

She doesn’t ask him to sit next to her. He just follows her lead.

She stares at the inch of space between them. Then at him, with his knees close to his chest, arms wrapped around them as if to keep them from shaking. He’s taller than her, will continue to get even taller. But he’s still so small. Too small to be this haunted. She can try and keep him safe from monsters all she wants. But she’s never going to protect him completely from everything.

She knows he can protect himself. It’s just that he shouldn’t have to.

“Stupid question, but a good starting point, I guess: are you okay?”

He rests his cheek against his knees. “Are you?”

 _I asked you first,_ she nearly blurts out. But if she keeps skirting around it, it’ll take longer to get this off his chest, and he won’t think she really cares or that she trusts him, and it’s a pretty good question. No, she wasn’t coming here to cry, but she has maybe half a dozen times this summer. And more times than she can count in the past year and a half since Barb.

She can be honest for him.

“Not really,” she admits.

He softens, tired eyes warm. “I get that.”

“I figured, from your crying in the—”

“If you’re gonna repeat that one more time, I’ll just crawl back into the tub,” he says so seriously it’s a wonder Nancy lasts the three seconds she does before bursting into laughter.

He joins her immediately. His shoulders shake with a laugh he muffles into his palms.

“Shut up,” he says half-heartedly. “You’re gonna wake everyone up!”

“It’s your fault for making me laugh! I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you. _Don’t make me laugh_.” 

His laughter fades, a sheepish smile lingering in its place. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she says firmly. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Okay?”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“Remember that the next time you check your piggy bank.” But he’s smiling, and she tries not to laugh again and completely fails. 

She opens her mouth to admonish him some more but he says, apropos of nothing, “I’m trying really hard to be happy for them. I know this’ll be good for them and Ms. Byers and that Hawkins is—I mean, it’s _Hawkins._ Leaving this shit-hole is always a good thing. After everything it’s put all of them through, they deserve a new start. And it’s selfish but—I lost them both once, but I’ve never lost them both at the _same time_ and quite like this, and I know it’s not the same, and they’ll be happy, I know, but I don’t—I can’t do it again. Nancy, I—”

As a young child, Mike would get injured a lot. He wasn’t afraid. He climbed trees, rolled down steep hills, and didn’t need anyone to hold him when he learned how to ride a bicycle.

But the thing was that meant he got injured. A lot. Nancy would get increasingly frustrated whenever he did, because he’d walk into these situations, knowing they weren’t safe, do it anyway, and cry for the longest time.

“He should know better!” Eight-year-old Nancy would huff, crossing her arms as Karen searched through the kitchen cabinets for their band-aids.

Karen tutted. “Nancy, he’s five.”

“He’s not an idiot, mom! He’s really smart. Except for when he’s stupid.”

Mike cried harder. “You can’t call me stupid!”

“He’s right, Nancy,” Karen said.

Nancy almost rolled her eyes, but then Mike looked at her. She didn’t just see the pain all over his face but felt it hit her square in the chest. She started to apologize, but then their dad barged in and told him to suck it up and stop crying.

A few months later, in school, Nancy was called to the office during fifth period. She’d been worried—“Is my Nana okay, she has a bad back, can you guys tell me what’s going on?”—but when she reached the office, she found her baby brother biting back tears. Nancy caught drops of blood and nearly collapsed.

He’d somehow scraped himself during their playtime, but wouldn’t respond to anyone. Not his teachers. Not even his friends. His homeroom teacher figured calling Nancy was a good idea.

She sat with him, hung her arm around his shoulder, and tried getting him to speak. It felt stupid because Mike was just as stubborn as her when he wanted to be. But he was hurt. He needed help. She had to fix this. So she kept going.

“You can cry if you want to,” she said. “It must’ve hurt a lot, right?”

He gave a short nod. “But ... but I was being stupid.”

She was struck with a flash of guilt but she continued. “You’re hurt and that’s not stupid. That’s not your fault. It’s okay. I got you, okay? Let it out. I’m right here.”

He cried, got snot in her shirt, and clung to her tightly. It didn’t take long for him to tell her what happened and then he kept going, talking a mile a minute. He got breathless the way he did when he was excited to tell a story, tripping over his words with his wide eyes. Nancy adored it. She rubbed his shoulder and beckoned him to continue.

“Tony broke the red crayon so I had to use yellow.”

“Lucas said this funny thing, can you believe it, I don’t remember what he said, but it was so funny, Nancy!”

“Will drew me something. You wanna see? It’s in my pocket.”

“Can you stay with me all day, please? Come to class, please, please, _please_?”

She couldn’t, in the end, but she gave him a piggyback ride on his way back to class.

Nine years later, and they’re both very different people, but some things don’t change. So she tells him the same exact words she told him in that small, spotless office: “It’s okay. I got you, okay? Let it out. I’m right here.”

She gathers him in her arms. He buries his head in her neck, shoulders trembling with the tears that rush out. It’s an awkward angle. He’s so tall he has to hunch over. She tries to sit up on her knees but he just ends up slumped further down the wall. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. Doesn’t flinch, pull away, or even make a sound of protest when she combs her fingers through his messy hair and rubs his back and holds him tight.

“It’s dumb,” he rambles, his voice muffled by her hair. “Because it’s not like they’re gonna be unsafe or in harm’s way. They’re not dying. I’ll get to see them again. It’s like, my brain knows we’re gonna be okay, but my stupid _heart_ —and what the hell, I’m talking about my heart now—but it’s like it doesn’t know that. Everything’s gonna change. I’m not ready.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. She hooks her chin over his head. Shuts her eyes. Breathes him in. “Everything’s gonna change. But you’re never gonna be ready.”

“You’re taking a really long pause here. I know you’re taking a pause and you’re not done because that can’t possibly be your idea of a pep-talk.”

“Well, it’s true! You’re never gonna be ready.” She drops the hand in his hair down to his arm and skates her finger over his wrist. It takes a few seconds to find his pulse but it’s there, a flutter against her thumb. “But you’ll always get through. And not just in a ‘you’ll survive way’ but in a ... ‘you’re gonna think there’s no way you can be happy, like actually, completely, honestly happy, but then you hold on and you keep going and without you realizing it, you’ll have ... you’ll have made something from the rubble and it’ll be different but it’ll be your life and it’ll be good. It won’t be the same. That’s gonna hurt. I’m not gonna act like I don’t wish I could go back. Just for a minute. Just so I can appreciate it a little more and remember it better because—because that’s how it was supposed to be, you know?”

Nancy’s voice breaks. All she can see through the clouds in her eyes is the brown mop of Mike’s head. Fuck, she’s going to cry all over his hair. But she can’t move their position, not with how tightly he’s clinging to her. She doesn’t entirely want to either because when a sob cracks its way out her throat, Mike rubs her back. Cups the back of her head. Nods against her, encouragement to go on.

“But we can’t go back,” she continues shakily. “Going forward is all we’ve got. We don’t get what we lose back but we get that complete happiness back. Okay? Even when we think it won’t come back. It does. It comes back. I promise. Look at me and tell me you believe me.”

He pulls back. He blinks up at her, looking at her so intently she can’t help but squirm a little, even though the glint in his eyes is unmistakably fond.

She thinks he’s going to call bullshit on her. Maybe make fun of her for being corny.

But instead, he says, “You know I love you, right?”

Of course Nancy knows. But there’s a difference between _knowing_ the sun comes out every day and _seeing_ it—the first crack of light after the long dark of night, how it illuminates everything, even you, from the inside out, and strikes you with the truth that even your thousandth sunrise will be as beautiful as your first.

She knows he loves her. And now, golden from his tentative half-smile, she sees it too.

“I know.” She doesn’t mask her shock at him saying it, though. But he doesn’t call her out on it. Her little brother who’s not so little anymore just slumps further down the wall to better hide his face in her shoulder. He knocks his elbow into her arm, then does it again so she knows it’s on purpose. 

God, Nancy loves her piece of shit brother _so_ much.

“I love you too, moron,” she says, choked up.

“I know. And I believe you. You believe yourself too, right?” 

She tenses. The hand in his hair stills. “Most of the time.”

“That’s okay,” he says, determined. “I can remind you when you don’t. You and Jonathan are gonna make it. I know you already know that but you also know it’s not— _you’re_ not gonna be alone here. I’ll keep you, like, company and stuff. If you want.”

“Is that a threat?” She teases but quickly follows with, “But yeah, I want. That’d be nice.”

“And when you get too annoyed by me, because you—”

“ _Hey_ , no, I won’t!”

“Okay, when I get too annoyed with you because you keep interrupting me, you’ll have Steve and Robin too. You and Steve are basically—I don’t know, friends, talking again?” She has no idea how to answer that, no idea where she and Steve are, but Mike doesn’t wait for an answer anyway. “And Robin’s actually cool. So you guys’ll hang out in school and stuff and after school, you guys can chill at the arcade with us and it’ll be alright eventually. And all this in between calling Jonathan and writing him letters and visiting him and—and it’ll work! Think about it. You just have one year. Ten months, really. And then this time next year, you’ll be packing up your things and off to college with Jonathan and I’ll—well, fuck, I’ll still be here and will have to get used to a whole other change, but that—well, I’m not gonna think about it until next year. That all sounds pretty possible, right?”

Nancy’s heart brims. She nods earnestly, squeezing his shoulder. “Sounds pretty damn possible to me.”

He scoots back from her suddenly, inches away until he’s sat in front of her with his legs crossed. “I’m gonna say this once. And then we’re never talking about it again. Okay?”

She gives him a confused look but nods.

“I’m also gonna say this quickly so keep up, alright, I won’t repeat anything so you better—”

“Oh my god, Mike, just—”

“You don’t deserve to feel guilty all the time,” he blurts out. “You did everything you could. Barb knows it. We all know it. _You_ have to know it. I know you’re happy, but you have to know you deserve it, okay? And you’ve gotta know it was enough. Everything you did for her was more than enough.”

She doesn’t even realize her eyes are wet until he stretches behind him, rips off a chunk of toilet paper from the roll, folds it neatly, and hands it to her. 

Sometimes she feels like she’s come a long way. Other times it’s like she’s still at square one and she’s frustrated because if life just keeps moving forward, so should she.

But like Mike can read her mind, he says, “It’s okay, Nancy.” He’s never been one to lie, especially to her, so she nods weakly. 

She dabs her eyes with a wet chuckle. “I mean it when I say I didn’t come here to cry. I actually had to pee.”

“I can—I can leave, right now? If you want me to go just—”

“Shut up.”

“Like I’m gonna listen to the person crying on the bathroom floor.”

“Like _I’m_ gonna be offended by the person crying in the bathtub. If you’re gonna do that, at least lock the d—actually, _no,_ don’t lock the door because you don’t have to do it alone, you know.”

“So next time I full-on cry, I should just find you, wake you up if it’s the middle of the night again, and get snot all over your shoulder?”

“ _Yes_!” 

Mike blinks. “Oh. Okay. Sure.” 

Nancy rubs her eyes with her crumpled piece of toilet paper. “You’re always gonna annoy me. But you’re never gonna bother me. Get it?”

He scoots back to her side, his back to the wall, his long legs stretched out next to hers. His feet reach the cabinet. Hers doesn’t. She bites her lip to keep from complaining about it. 

“Got it,” he murmurs. “Only if you get that just cuz I’m younger than you doesn’t mean you have to shield me from the fact that you’re, like, a person. I know you have feelings.”

She heaves a sigh, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Damn. Thought I was more careful about that.”

His body shakes with a laugh. “I’m _serious_.”

“I know,” she says, gentler. “I know.”

“Good. Oh. And one another thing? ‘Cuz the whole _I’m never repeating this_ wasn’t about Barb, of course it wasn’t, we can always talk about her, you know that, but, uh—there’s another thing. _That_ is what I’m never repeating and—”

“Also seems to be what you’re never gonna end up saying. Whatever it is, just say it. It’s okay.”

He pats her shoulder awkwardly. “You don’t gotta feel guilty for wanting Jonathan and Steve both in your life. Sure, I have no idea why you dated Steve or why you’d want to be friends—”

“Oh my god, get over it,” she hisses but she’s already blushing. “Steve’s a good guy, I know you know that, I know you’re pretending—”

“Stop interrupting me! I’m just saying. It’s okay to care about them both. And they’re, like, friends now, so it’s even more okay. Let yourself have this.”

And before she can get a word out or even question if Mike can just tell how much she cares, he stammers, “Alright, and now we don’t have to talk about this again.”

“Good,” she says on an exhale. She jabs his finger into his stomach, just because. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Oh my—”

“Why is there a party in the bathroom?”

At the sound of their baby sister’s voice, Nancy and Mike startle terribly. He claps his hand over his mouth. Nancy knows it’s to stifle a swear because she bites her lip to do the same.

Holly pokes her head through the crack of the bathroom door. She looks and sounds sleepy, her mouth downturned into a frown. “I went to your rooms and you guys weren’t there.”

Nancy immediately jumps to her feet. She strides towards Holly and crouches to meet her at eye-level. “What’s wrong?”

“Can’t sleep. I wanted to go to mom but dad is snoring too loud.”

And it just kind of makes sense for them to all pile into Nancy’s bed, Holly in between Mike and Nancy. She opens her window, lets some moonlight in so it’s not too dark for Holly. Holly knocks out almost immediately. Face-down, curled into Nancy’s side, one hand somehow gripping Mike’s hair.

“She agrees with mom,” Nancy whispers after Mike unsuccessfully attempts to move Holly’s hand away. “She wants you to cut your hair.”

Mike makes a face. “She likes my hair. Told me so herself. It’s not _that_ long.”

“Hey, I dig the long hair. I just can’t tell if you actually like it or if you’re doing it to piss dad off.”

In the dark, she can make out his mischievous half-smile. “Pissing him off is just unintentional fun. But I dunno. I don’t really like the idea of dad taking me to some barber who’ll just—have his hands in my hair. That’s weird.”

She reaches across Holly, careful not to shake the bed, and pushes a lock of hair away from his eyes. “I can do it. I cut my hair last year.”

“Mom had to fix it for you.”

“And then she taught me how to do it! And c’mon, if I mess it up, mom will fix it for you.”

“So a haircut from you and mom? Great pitch.”

“I know you’re considering it.”

“Goddammit.”

Nancy grins up at her ceiling. “I’ll do it before we go to the arcade tomorrow. I’m not gonna make you, so it’s fine if you don’t want to, and fine if you don’t trust me, I won’t take it person—”

“Obviously I trust you,” Mike says, with no hesitation. “But also, if you mess up my hair, I get to mess yours back too.”

“Deal.” She tightens her hold on Holly. Tugs the thin blanket over Mike a little higher. And falls asleep easily to the sounds of her little brother and little sister’s breathing.

.

.

.

“Whoa, Mike, did you get a—”

“I did it,” Nancy interrupts, beaming at Jonathan as he slips into the passenger’s seat. 

“ _Really_?”

Mike snorts like Jonathan’s surprised that she could manage a haircut that well. In actuality, Nancy knows he’s just surprised Mike let her near him with a pair of scissors.

“Yup.” Mike sits at the very edge of the backseat. He hangs his arm around the back of Jonathan’s headrest. “It doesn’t look terrible, right?”

Jonathan nods approvingly. Right as he tells Mike, “Looks really great,” he taps his fingers against Nancy’s knuckle. 

She tamps down her smile, resists the urge to hold Jonathan’s hand and kiss him. Until she remembers they’ve got two days left and even without that included, why bother holding back?

“Mike,” Nancy says, her eyes set on Jonathan. “Go inside and get Will and El.”

“You’re gross.” But he’s out of the car in a minute, the door slamming behind him as he runs into the Byers’ home, yelling, “ _Guys, guess what_!”

“It does look great.” Jonathan laces their fingers properly. “Wasn’t just saying it.”

“Mm, I know. You don’t make eye contact when you lie.”

“Really? Your voice gets a little high and squeaky.”

She removes her seatbelt, moves it out of the way so she can lean forward and press her forehead to his. His skin is already a little damp from the mid-morning heat but that just makes her press closer. He sweats so quickly when it’s hot out. She’s going to miss that. She’s going to miss everything and there’s nothing she can do about it but they have right now, and they’ll have next year, and she has to hold onto that. “You know, it’s cute when you sweat.”

“What?”

Fuck if Nancy knows, so she kisses him. 

He kisses her back, a hand coming up to cup her jaw, but soon breaks free just to breathe out, “You’re weirdly cute when you sweat too. Like. Really cute. You get super red and even more energized and—”

She laughs, sneaking another kiss, before she tells him, “ _You_ sweat right through your clothes and it should be disgusting but it isn’t, how do you make sweating cute—”

“ _This_ is how you guys talk to each other?” 

It’s somehow worse hearing this from Will than Mike. Will, Mike, and El crowd next to Jonathan’s car door peeking in through the window. Mike’s covering his laughter by hiding behind El. Will just looks bewildered, his eyebrows scrunched up. El is a good mix of them both. She’s smiling but she looks very confused about why.

“Shut up, please,” Jonathan says half-heartedly.

Nancy just plays dumb. “What, you guys don’t talk to your friends like this?” 

.

.

.

The drive to the arcade is short. Nancy spots Steve before he sees them. He’s waiting outside the arcade. In the ten seconds she eyes him before he notices them, she catches him constantly looking around, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and fixing up his hair even though it’s perfect. His nervous excitement and its ensuing energy makes her smile.

When he does notice them, he waves frantically. 

She parks directly in front of him. The kids get out of the car quickly, darting past Steve with quick hellos before they run inside. Through the door’s opening, Nancy spies Lucas, Dustin, and Max crowded behind Robin. It looks like she’s teaching them how to play something, their eyes all glued to the screen of a game she can’t quite see.

“Did your brother get a haircut?”

Jonathan hums affirmatively as he closes the passenger door. “You’ll never guess who did it.”

Steve scratches his chin. “Holly?”

Nancy gawks at him. She locks the car before joining them right by the arcade’s front doors. “ _Excuse_ —”

Steve’s mouth cracks into a grin. “Just messing with you. It looks real good. I’m surprised he let you, though.”

“Me too. But he trusts me,” she says pridefully, the way she would about getting an A on a physics test. 

“Would you ever let Nance give you a haircut?” Jonathan asks.

“Are you implying I need a haircut because I swear, dude, if—”

Jonathan rolls his eyes, a touch fond. He bumps his shoulder against Steve’s. “Your hair’s perfect.”

That not only renders Steve speechless but Nancy too. She feels—there should be a bigger word for it, and maybe there is but she hasn’t found it yet. The only one she can think of is good. It just feels good, standing underneath the late August sun with Jonathan and Steve, close enough that all their shoulders nearly touch, Steve flustered, Jonathan almost there with him, and Nancy marvelling at how easy this is, all to the distant noises of a pinball machine and Robin instructing their kids how to best kill a ‘swamp-demon’.

Jonathan gives Nancy a panicked look. His shoulders rise, mouth open, _was that too much?_ written all over his face.

“Agreed,” Nancy quickly chimes in. She flicks his longest curl at the top of his head. “No need to fix what doesn’t need fixing. I don’t know why you’re all blushy as if you don’t already know how nice your hair is.”

“I’m not blushy,” Steve defends haughtily. Nancy notices he’s touching both the strand of hair that Nancy had just pushed back and the spot on his shoulder Jonathan had touched. She doesn’t comment on it. Steve’s already blushing and beginning to stammer. It’d just be mean to keep going.

“You know, you get really loud when you lie,” Nancy says.

Jonathan adds, “And your face gets all, screwed-up. And no, I didn’t just say your face is screwed-up. That’s not what I meant.”

“Alright, Mr. Gets Redder Than A—a _heart_ when he’s lying.”

“A _heart_?” Jonathan repeats.

“And Ms.—” Even before Steve pitches his voice up a few octaves, Nancy’s already ducking her head, aiming her smile at the sidewalk. “Speaks So High Only Dogs Can Hear You.”

That gets her to look up and raise an eyebrow at him. She’s pretty sure he’s also remembering the way he used to say she was pretty when she lied. 

“That’s pretty accurate,” Jonathan says.

And before Nancy can decide if she wants to start teasing Steve or Jonathan first, because she’s definitely teasing them both, the arcade’s door opens.

“Nancy!” Mike yells even though he stands a foot away from them. “Max has a question for you!”

_“No, I don’t!”_

“She’s given me my first ever compliment, thanks to my haircut. Wants to know if you’d give her one too.”

_“Mike! Don’t be weird!”_

Nancy grins. She takes Jonathan’s hand, nudges Steve forward by the shoulder, and follows Mike’s lead into the arcade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love these barely functional siblings *so much*. thank you for reading!!!! i hope you enjoyed and would love know what you thought!!!!!! 
> 
> next up in a few days, we have the byers bros.
> 
> until then, come say hi on tumblr!! i'm @trulyalpha!!!!! see u soon!!!! much love!!!!!!!


	2. jonathan and will

There’s a split second where Jonathan thinks he’s hallucinated Will.

It’s plausible enough. He’s a month and a half into his senior year. New school, new house, new state, change having spilled and overflowed into his life. He has the same bed from Hawkins but sleeping in it feels different, still, and he can’t tell if it’s a good different or not. He stays up on the phone with Nancy, sometimes Steve, sometimes them both. His Photography class is weirdly but pleasantly more vibrant than back at Hawkins’, even though he’s still at a public high school, thus more work, and his Chemistry class is killing him, and—

The point is, his sleep is questionable, everything is weird and new, and anything is possible.

Imagining your little brother sitting in the corner of your high school’s stairway, doodling over a sheet of formulas? That’s a little strange. But not _that_ strange. 

But then he actually stops and thinks. Okay, it is pretty strange. 

Will doesn’t notice him. He keeps drawing, his tongue peeking out, one foot tapping against the floor.

It’s last-period. Will should be in class. It’s certainly not good that he’s skipping. But he’s also skipping class by remaining on school grounds and at least trying to get some work finished, judging from the textbooks spread out by his feet.

Jonathan clears his throat. “Will?”

Will flinches. He snaps his head up, the pencil in his grasp skittering to the floor. “Alright. This is exactly what it looks like.” He tries a smile. “At least I’m not lying about it!”

“I’m a little offended you aren’t,” Jonathan admits. He walks towards Will, sinks to the floor right next to him in the corner of the stairwell. It’s gross but only public school level gross. Just a lot of dust and dried tracks of mud that probably won’t stain their clothes.

“I know you’re not mad at me ‘cuz of it,” Will says.

“Maybe I am.”

“Are you?”

“No. But give me a minute. Maybe I will be then.”

With a begrudging smile, Will rolls his eyes. “ _You’re_ not in class either.” 

“I was doing something _for_ class.” Jonathan gestures to the stack of forms in his hands, fresh from the office’s printer. “Getting this for my photography teacher.”

“Okay, well, I was doing something for class too!” Will waves his notebook and points to his scribbled equations. “I have a test tomorrow!”

“So you’re studying.”

“Yup.”

“In the stairway. Not the library.”

“Well—”

“And not doing it in math class, which you have right now?”

“This sounds bad.”

“Not bad,” Jonathan insists. He leans his back to the wall, drops his shoulders, tries to appear casual. Skipping class isn’t a big deal. It’s just that this is Will _._ He’s a good student, yes, but Jonathan can’t see the benefit of skipping class to study in a gross stairway when the library is _right there_. “But a little weird.”

“I thought being weird was a good thing,” Will deadpans.

“Fine. It’s little concerning then.”

“ _I’m fine_ —”

“I didn’t say you weren’t!”

“I heard the implication.” Will closes his textbook. Sets it and his notebook over his backpack. Looks Jonathan right in the eye as he claps his shoulder. “I’m not going missing, and I’m not possessed, and I have no weird tickle in my neck. This is just normal stuff. Don’t worry. Go to class! Your teacher is waiting for you!”

“My class is a zoo with a bunch of seniors taking it as a blow-off class and a teacher who likes to ramble, gets distracted, and will genuinely believe it when I tell him the office kept me waiting. I’m good here.” Jonathan hesitates. “Unless you want me to go? That’s fine, I just—”

“I don’t want you to go,” Will says firmly. Jonathan cracks a smile that fades as soon as Will speaks again. “I just don’t want you to have to keep worrying about me.”

The floor rumbles. They hear the footsteps before they see them, the doors quickly slamming open as two children—okay, not _children,_ but definitely not seniors and if they’re not seniors, then they’re kids in his eyes—race through. They chase each other, laughing as they run down the stairs. Neither notice Will and Jonathan. 

Will slumps against the wall. He reaches for his textbook. “Go back to class, Jonathan.”

Jonathan doesn’t actively think about being an older brother. He just _is_. It’s all instinct—every time he’s made Will dinner or explained a math concept or asked about his day. Even the advice he’s given has all just come from the heart without much thought. Loving his brother is just like breathing. He’s always known how to do it. He doesn’t have to think twice about it.

But he has to think about it now. 

He doesn’t want Will to feel babied. He’s fourteen now. He needs to know he’s trusted. For all Jonathan really knows, he just wants to get his homework done. This new school hasn’t exactly been easy on any of them. But they’re more than keeping their head above water—they’re treading. Will and El are getting along a lot better now and have most of their classes together. They’ve made a friend together, Oliver, whose older sister is kind of Jonathan’s friend too and in his photography class (and who’s most definitely going to ask what the hell took him so long to get back to class). 

Still, a new school is hard enough without even taking into consideration everything else they’ve gone through. So not wanting to be in class is normal. Isn’t it? Will’s studying right now. Not going to class could probably just be nothing more than that.

Jonathan knows that. It’s the _probably_ he’s hung up on.

And then his instinct finally kicks in. He knows in his heart he’d rather badger Will than potentially give him even an _inkling_ that he’s going unseen. 

“I’ll go.” Jonathan extends his legs. Crosses his arms. Settles even firmer onto the floor. “When you tell me why you’re not in class.”

“I _know_ you’ve skipped class before, so don’t even lecture me.”

“It’s not that!”

“Don’t worry about me. _Please_.” 

Jonathan’s hand hovers over Will’s back. He doesn’t know if it’s alright to move it or not, so he just leaves it there in case Will wants to lean into it. “Okay,” he says slowly. “Then I’m not worrying.”

Will’s sudden burst of laughter echoes throughout the stairway. “You’re such a liar.”

“So are you, Mr. Everything’s Fine.”

“Everything is! I’m serious! It’s just normal life stuff.”

“Since when was that not a big deal?”

Will raises both eyebrows at Jonathan. “I’m not going to answer that out loud because anyone could be listening but I hope you can see it in my eyes. Look.”

Jonathan sighs but he makes a point to widen his eyes at Will like he’s inspecting him. “Alright, that’s fair. But still. It matters. You know that, right? Life’s already weird when you’re a preteen.”

“I’m not a preteen.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Will laughs again. The relief that hits Jonathan is overwhelming. 

“Like I said, things are already weird now,” Jonathan continues, “but add that to the shitty year we’ve had, the shitty two years, we’ve had, actually—” He thinks of funerals. Will’s, Barb’s, Bob’s, Hop’s. He thinks of Tom Holloway’s blood on his hands after he’d killed him, how he couldn’t quite scrub it off in the hazy moments after and how a few months later, he still can’t get his hands fully clean. He thinks about all the things he couldn’t protect Will from even here, miles and miles away from Hawkins, in what’s supposed to be their fresh start. 

It takes him a second to remember how to breathe. Another second to actually remember to do it.

Will grips Jonathan’s knee. His silence helps dislodge the lump in Jonathan’s throat.

“After everything,” he manages finally, “it’s just—it’s not fair that we have these really shitty things happen so when more regular shitty things happen, we feel bad about feeling bad. So. You know. Don’t.” 

“Don’t ... don’t feel bad?” 

“No! I mean, that would be, like, great too, if it was in your control, but don’t feel bad. About feeling bad. Does that make sense?”

“It does,” Will says. “I just don’t want _you_ feeling bad.”

Jonathan’s eyebrows knit together. Alarmed, he straightens his back, eloquently asking, “What?”

“I don’t want you feeling—”

“Okay, no, I got that. But why?”

Will stares at Jonathan flatly. 

“Oh, c’mon, knock it off. If I told you to never worry about me, you’d call me ridiculous.”

“The point is, you wouldn’t want me to worry! Right?”

Jonathan scratches the back of his neck. “Maybe I have hypocritical tendencies. But this isn’t about me.”

“Why not?” Will demands.

“Because it’s not?”

“Maybe I want to talk about how worried I am about you!”

Jonathan deeply doesn’t want to talk about himself. But Will sounds frustrated—and aggressively genuine, in a heartwarming way— and this is probably a better way to lead into whatever’s up with Will. “Okay? Let’s ... talk about that?”

Will folds his hands in his lap and nods eagerly. “Good. So. How are you?”

“Good?”

“How’s school?”

“Okay. Starting to get busy, though, and I need to start my college applications which seems like a pain. I’m not excited about that.”

“How’s Nancy and Steve?”

Jonathan’s heartbeat spikes, just a little. He’ll think about why Will asked about them both in the same sentence later. Probably. “They’re—they’re good. I’ve been talking to them regularly. I miss them, but uh, yeah, that’s not new.”

“You’re sleeping well?”

“Okay, I guess?”

Will visibly tenses. “And after everything with—with what happened at the hospital and Hop...?”

Jonathan’s heart clenches. He doesn’t want to talk about this, doesn’t want to _think_ about it, especially in the middle of their high school’s stairway where another pair of students could come running in any moment now. But his little brother’s looking at him, his height allowing him to meet Jonathan at exactly eye-level which is extraordinarily bizarre, and his eyes are so full of concern that Jonathan knows he can do it for Will.

“Depends on the day,” Jonathan says honestly. “But I’m holding on.”

“How’s today?”

“Just a regular day.” A beat passes as Jonathan soaks in the truth of it. “So a good day.”

Will’s smile is a little sad. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“You get to worry about me and I get to be sad for what you’ve gone through,” Will says plainly. He sticks his hand out. “Deal?”

Jonathan chuckles, accepting the handshake. “Alright. It’s your turn now.” 

“It’s just—” Will groans into his hands. “I don’t _know_! In math today, it’s a work-period, right? But everyone just blows it off to talk to their friends, and our teacher doesn’t care, and it’s like—they remind me of _my_ friends, how we would mess around too, how they’re not with me, and then I’m sad about them, and I’m, like, pre-sad about high school ending. Which! I know is dumb! But so much has changed, and so much _will_ change, so what’s the point of even trying to make friends in class when in a few months, we’ll start a new semester anyway, and then we’ll blink, and we’ll be done high school, you know? It’s even like. I think about how we’re going back for Thanksgiving soon and before I can even get excited, I remember we’ll just be leaving a few days later anyway. You know? ”

“Oh,” Jonathan says. He softens, nudges his knee against Will’s. “Yeah, I get what you mean.”

“It’s terrible! And sad. Just. Really sad. And I know I’m whining a lot and it’s dumb to skip class for that but. But yeah.”

“You’re not whining. It does suck.”

“It’s a weird time to have this realization,” Will says glumly. “But here it is. You ever feel like that?”

“Not really. But I can understand it. Especially the Thanksgiving part.” Jonathan sits up, scoots himself until he’s in front of Will. “Alright. I think I’ve got my pep-talk. But it’s not gonna be good.”

“Great,” Will says without a drop of sarcasm. “Lay it on me.”

“It’s either everything changes or nothing changes. And if nothing changed, that would suck, right?”

“So it’s like. This is the best of the worst options?”

“Yeah! And goodbyes are terrible but you just gotta think about the next hello, right? I’m not gonna say it’s all about perspective ‘cuz I know it’s more than that, but I think it’s part of it. I know that’s what keeps me going with Nancy and—” Jonathan hesitates.

“And Steve, yeah,” Will finishes for him, completely nonplussed. God, Jonathan loves his brother so much. “Okay. This is working for me.”

“Great, because I have _no idea_ what I’m saying. It’s just ... you’re gonna get attached to this dumb place either way. I’m not saying I love high school but I know there are moments and little things from Hawkins High that I just can’t help but miss. And how you do high school is up to you, but—you can try and protect yourself from a blow four years away and that might not be as bad as you think right now or you just. Let yourself be here, today. I mean, it’s all we’ve got, right?”

“And also,” Jonathan adds, “let yourself study with a proper table and chair. There’s so much dust here. I’m surprised we haven’t sneezed yet.”

“I’ve held back, like, four sneezes while you’ve been here.”

“Why? Just let yourself sneeze—okay, my point is, you’re right that it sucks and it’s sad and it hurts. But there’s no escaping that. There’s just ... living with it and finding a way to be, you know, happy despite it. We all have to do it. And we, more than most people, have a lotta practice with it. So I know you can do it. I know that you will.”

Will’s shoulders sag. He lets out a long exhale. Jonathan watches him carefully for a moment, and when a smile spreads across his brother’s face, small but enough that his entire face lights up, he basks in it.

“I ever tell you how glad I am you’re my big brother?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan says, grinning.

“Not just that but—it’s not only that you’re my brother, it’s that you’re _you_. You know that, right?” Will elbows Jonathan and tips his head down the stairs. “I’d say more but you have class to get to! We’ll talk after school.”

Appreciation bubbles up in Jonathan’s chest, warm and fuzzy as he prides himself on being responsible for Will’s smile. “Love you too. But yeah, okay, I’ll—wait. Hold on. The school’s gonna call home. And where mom works. You know that, right?”

“About that ... alright, I didn’t mean to but I put our old phone number on the school registration form by accident and when I remembered, it just? Seemed pointless to fix it anyway? Oliver told me it’s an automated message they send anyway, so it’s not like the school will know to fix it. Are you gonna tell mom?”

“That you skipped class to study for that class? Yes. And she’s going to be pissed.”

Will crumples his formula sheet and tosses it at Jonathan, all while laughing. “You don’t tell good jokes! Go to class!”

Jonathan gets up reluctantly. His knees crack as he stands, ignoring the pointed look it earns him from Will. Will’s phys-ed teacher consoles his students for the tragedy that is a first-period gym class by spewing facts about how exercise in the morning is good, actually. This has led to many breakfasts stretches with recitations of Coach Petrou’s “Morning Facts.” Catchy, right?

“I know,” Jonathan says before Will can. “I need to stretch more.”

Will nods sagely. “And go to class!”

Jonathan holds the stack of papers he’d grabbed for his teacher to his chest, smiling incredulously at Will. “You see the irony in that right?”

Will balls up another piece of paper from his notebook. He threatens to throw it at Jonathan. Even as he still has it raised and ready to strike as Jonathan reaches the bottom of the steps, Will calls out, “Bye! See you after school!”

“See you—” Jonathan bumps right into Olive and nearly loses his grip on the papers. “Whoa, hey. Is everything okay?”

“Dude, Frankfort’s like, two minutes away from noticing you’re still gone,” Olive says. A strand of her long black hair gets caught in her nose-ring and she makes a face as she removes it. It’s terribly endearing. But he has no idea if that’s a weird thing to say to a friend or not let alone if he and Olive are just friends or classmates and—

She’s still staring at him. “Where’ve you _been_?”

“Oh. Ran into my brother. Had a nice chat.”

“Really?”

“Really. He’s, like, sitting up on the stairway next to the doors.”

“HI, OLIVE!”

“Oh,” Olive says. “Hi, Will! You okay, bud?”

“YEAH! JUST DOING MATH HOMEWORK!”

“Nice!” Olive points to the set of doors behind them. “Let’s go? Everything’s good, right?”

“Yeah.” He means it. The same might not be true come tomorrow, but today’s not over yet. His brother’s okay or at least, he will be. In about half an hour, he’s going to walk him and El home, do some homework and ruin his hearing with a CD he got last week, have dinner with his family, and call Nancy and probably Steve afterwards too, if Steve’s not already with Nancy like he is sometimes when Jonathan calls. 

He gives his classmate-almost-friend a grateful smile and holds the door open for her. “Everything’s good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this is a minor thing but i REALLY wanted to stress that if the whole "chilling in the stairway, skipping class without being caught is UNREALISTIC" that's because it probably is but this happened??? all the time in my school??? people would always skip on school property and hang everywhere in the school, often times just doing work, and it was baffling to me as a freshman and is baffling to me now. like those kids are wearing their gym uniforms they have CLASS but ten teachers pass them by without questioning anything. WHAT?????
> 
> anyways!! shout out to anyone who recognizes olive from a lonely soul!! :-) hope you enjoyed this chapter. i'd love to know your thoughts. 
> 
> next up we have max and steve!! until then take care!!!!! <3


	3. steve and max

Steve is half-aware this is probably weird.

He’s laying in his ex-girlfriend’s bed, her and his new best friend and a bunch of other kids, all people he’s so terribly fond of, waiting for someone _else_ he’s terribly fond of—said ex’s new boyfriend. 

But he’s happy to be here. He feels comfortable in Nancy’s bed with her warm comforter draped over his legs, her pillow cushioning his head. He’s excited that Jonathan’s almost here for Thanksgiving. He’s content, listening to the distant noise from Nancy’s basement. Now that they’re really friends and don’t need Steve as their buffer anymore, Nancy and Robin are always so _loud_ when talking to each other. He teases them for it. Pretends to be concerned over the state of his hearing and dumb shit like that, but it’s nice. That they get along. That they fit, so easily, and have become inseparable. That two people he loves _so much_ love each other too.

Plus, he can hear the kids and their muffled shriek-laughter. It’s all so lovely.

Everything’s so different now, his life so much fuller than it was this time last year, two years ago. 

But that’s a good thing. Weird or not, it doesn’t matter. Nancy had braided part of his hair earlier, her fingers gentle and familiar against his scalp. When she noticed how exhausted he was from a packed-day at the arcade, she’d offered his room for him to lay down in for a bit. 

And so he’s here, and he’s still as comfortable here as he used to be, and he might just fall asleep easily for a peaceful bout of sleep. And when he wakes up, Jonathan will be here, Nancy will be happy to see him, the rest of Jonathan’s family will be here, the kids will be happy, and Steve will be happy about it all.

He almost does fall asleep to that thought. Gets excited, cozied in Nancy’s bed, thinking about how, in what’ll feel like a blink of an eye, Jonathan will finally be home with them.

“Hey, are you—oh, shit.”

His eyes snap open immediately. He finds Max peeking into the crack of Nancy’s door. When she notices him staring, she freezes.

“Wasn’t sleeping,” he says before she asks. He rubs his eyes, makes himself sit up. “Just ...”

“Thinking of what lie to say when I totally woke you up?”

“I’m not lying!” He squints at her. She still hasn’t fully stepped inside, lingering hesitantly by the door. “You good?”

“Yeah. Nancy just wanted to make sure you were alright and I offered to check up on you.”

Steve feels warm all over. “Aw, that’s—”

“Shut up.”

“Nope. You can’t take this away from me. You’re _concerned_ about me.”

Max rolls her eyes, leaning her head against the doorframe. “Yeah because with the number of concussions you’ve had in the past two years, that’s fair.”

“Pft. I’ve only had, like, two concussions. Maybe even three.”

“Impressive.”

“Thank you.” He smiles sleepily. It’d be easy to close his eyes and drift off but now that Max’s here, he doesn’t want that. He crawls out from underneath Nancy’s comforter, perches himself on the edge of her bed. “Need a break from the noise too?”

She hesitates but finally joins him. She sits at the very end of the bed, fiddling with her fingers. “It’s not like they’re annoying me. It’s just—I don’t know, I need a minute, I guess.”

“I get that. What’re they up to now?”

“Robin and Dustin are talking about Star Wars ‘cuz Lucas and Nancy are giving Holly Leia’s space-buns.”

Steve smiles at the image. “Damn, Holly’s _still_ up? A five-year-old has more stamina than me?”

The bed shifts as Max crosses her legs at the ankle and scoots back. “Yup. You feel old?”

“Oh, extremely. I have pay-checks. I have to clock in and out for work. I have so much back pain.”

She widens her eyes. “I have back pain too!”

“Dude, you’re, like, fourteen,” Steve says.

“I know my age, thanks.”

“Okay, well, I can answer why you have back pain partly with what you’re doing right now.” He gestures to her curved back and her hunched shoulders. “Your posture is terrible.”

“Is not,” she says right as she straightens her back. And if there’s a way to do that resentfully, then Max nails it. “Okay, fine, my posture sucks but that can’t be it.”

He agrees. He frowns, taking in the sight of her. Her face is pale, a little sunken, dark bags underneath her eyes. And he knows it’s winter now, so the longer nights and darker days coupled with the inevitable stress of the freshman year of high school can be rough. But he also knows better than to chalk this up to just that.

So he gently bumps his shoulder to hers and suggests, “Maybe it’s how you’re doing. Emotionally. Look, I know—you don’t have to talk about it, and you can pretend I didn’t even say this but I know this year has been terrible and really hard. And it’s—” He catches himself and pauses. It’s not okay. He can’t possibly say that. He has no idea what the past few months have been like for Max, in that house with Billy’s death still fresh. It’s complicated enough for Steve who couldn’t even stand Billy. He can’t imagine what it’s like for Max.

She stares vacantly at her feet swinging off the edge of the bed. From the basement, Holly’s delighted cackle bounces around the house. The clock in Nancy’s room ticks from 11:04 to 11:05. 

“Laying down should be good for my back,” Max says promptly. She scoots backwards to the other side of the bed and lies, eyes flicked to the ceiling, the top of her head nestled against a pillow. “Do you think Nancy will mind that I’m here?”

“Absolutely not.” He settles next to her, leaving a good foot between them.

In a smaller voice, Max asks, “Do you mind?”

“Absolutely not,” he says, firmer. “I know I joke around that you guys are annoying but you really aren’t. It’s actually annoying how cool you are.”

She sputters out a laugh. She lolls her head over her shoulder to fix him with a confused smile. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious! You should be super awkward and uncomfortable and weird. That’s what being fourteen _is_. No shame in that, of course, it’s part of the process, but it’s like not only are you cooler than I was at your age—and my god, do I sound ancient saying that—but you’re cooler than I am now. _And_ you’re as cool as Nance and Robin.”

Max’s eyes light up. “ _You’re_ as cool as Nance and Robin.”

“Shut up,” Steve says, fond. “Am not.”

“Quit fishing for compliments.”

“I was _not_ —”

“Was too! You know we think you’re cool, right? You’re lame in a cool way. Stop looking at me like that, I’m serious.”

“Thanks, Max. That—that means a lot.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Steve can’t help but laugh. “Of course.”

Something in her face softens. Her smile fades and she turns her head to the ceiling again, laying her hands flat on her stomach. “Is it really okay if I talk about him? I know—I know he treated you like shit, so if it’s weird, then—”

“Max,” he interrupts gently. He is _so_ not equipped for this. He wants to please ask Max to give him a second, then run down to the basement, grab either Nancy or Robin—or both—and have them talk to Max instead. They’ll give her better advice. They’ll know exactly what to say.

But Max is here, and she’s opening up, choosing to do it with him. That’s special. That matters so much. She trusts him and he has to trust that.

So he doesn’t quite crush his doubt but he makes it shut up long enough to say, “It’s not weird at all. It’s okay. What were you gonna say?” He doesn’t look at her, knows he’d probably find it easier to talk about something difficult without the pressure of a pair of eyes on him. So he stares at Nancy’s stuffed bear atop her dresser and waits, patient.

“It’s just ...” She blows out a long breath. “Weird. I don’t know what I expected it to feel like but I didn’t expect _this_. I know Billy wasn’t a good guy. I hate him for what he did to Lucas and _you_ but that didn’t mean I wanted him dead. He wasn’t a good brother and that doesn’t suddenly change but still.” She rolls over, faces him, and tucks both of her hands underneath the side of her head. “Do you feel bad at all?”

Steve looks at her. The open ache all over her face breaks his heart. He knows life isn’t fair and things happen without any rhyme or reason but he still can’t accept it. Max doesn’t deserve this. Her mom doesn’t deserve her piece of shit husband. It’s just not right and he’s so tired but not enough that he isn’t also so fucking angry.

But Max doesn’t need any more anger right now.

“I do,” he admits. He tries not to think about Billy too much these days. Not that he ever liked to think about him, every single interaction with him remarkably awful, but it stings differently now. Like Max said, he wasn’t a good person. Doesn’t mean he deserved it. “I can bet Lucas and everyone else can relate too. It’s okay if it’s hard for you. No one’s expecting you to just get over it. We understand. I promise.”

“But _I_ expect myself to get over it,” she whispers. 

“Oh.”

“I know that’s stupid, but—”

“Hey. It’s not stupid. Feelings are stupid.”

“Fuck yeah they are,” she says with feeling. “I mean. Except for like. Love and happiness.”

“Yeah, no, those are great. Everything else sucks.” He props himself up on his elbow, cheek against his palm. He still doesn’t know what he’s doing but he knows how to freestyle. He can do this for her and do it well. “But those dumb feelings are still ours to feel. We can’t ignore them or push them down or pretend they don’t exist. We can only, like, let them go after we’ve let them in, y’know? And I know it’s a lot. A lot to do on your own. Thing is, you don’t have to do it alone. You have us.”

“I know,” she says thickly. She sniffs. A tear falls onto Nancy’s duvet.

His alarm bells sound off. “Oh no. Oh, Max, I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t,” she insists, wiping her eyes roughly with the sleeve of her sweater. “Okay, you did, but it’s good, it’s—” She hiccups and sits up sharply, her shoulders wracking with a sob. “Jesus fuck, am I just _leaking_ now?”

He’s quick to follow her and sits upright. He doesn’t know if he should touch her or not, if it would help or make things worse, but then he catches sight of her red eyes before she hides them behind her hands.

“Max,” he says softly. When she looks at him through clouded eyes, he opens his arm for her. He just barely maintains his balance when she barrels into his side.

He’s not sure how long they spend just sitting, her head against his shoulder, his arm around hers, her quiet cries overlapped with the “It’s okay, just let it out” and “I’m right here” he occasionally lets out. They hear the odd round of laughter from the basement. The clock continues to tick forward. He doesn’t let go. 

After a while, Max mumbles, “Your shoulder looks gross.”

He furrows his eyebrows and doesn’t move his chin from where it rests over her head. “Excuse me.”

“No, like it’s wet. Probably got snot too. You should cry on my shoulder now.”

“What?”

“So we’re even. And, you know, so you can deal with your stuff too.”

“My—what?” He doesn’t pull back, but he hopes he can hear how confused he is even though she can’t see it on his face. “I don’t have _stuff_.”

“Dude.”

“Okay, but everyone has a little stuff! But it’s not about me right now. It’s about you. And I’m not here to cry on your shoulder which I can’t even reach by the way.”

She jabs her elbow into his other arm. “You better be following your own advice.”

He lightly elbows her back. “Hm?”

“Opening up instead of closing shut. Do you?”

“Are you—are you worried about me?”

“Of course,” she says like it’s both completely obvious and just natural. There’s no hesitation. Just sincerity. “You know I don’t actually think you’re annoying either?”

Steve knows, on a basic level, the kids all actually like him. But a sappy smile still spreads across his mouth to really hear it and to know from how Max’s still leaning against his shoulder that she feels safe here, with him. “The coolest fourteen-year-old doesn’t think I’m annoying. Gonna add that to my resume right now.”

“The coolest nineteen-year-old thinks _I’m_ cool. I ... don’t have a resume yet but I’ll add that there when I do.”

He laughs. “You know if you ever need anything, you can always—”

“I know. And you know how thankful I am, right?”

He pats her shoulder and blinks the sudden stinging in his eyes away. “You don’t gotta be. You’re exceptionally easy to like.”

“Ooh, exceptionally. I like the word choice.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Very sophisticated, Steven.”

He laughs again, thankful that Max doesn’t call him out for how wet the sound is. “Thank you, Maxine.”

He doesn’t have to see her face to know she’s making a gagging motion. “Please don’t. The only person that calls me that is my step-dad.”

Steve’s blood runs cold. He tightens his grip on her without realizing it. “Is everything—how is he? Now?” He knows the other kids check in on her, that she has a lot of dinners with the Wheelers, that Nancy and Robin pull her aside to talk once a week at the arcade or when Max’s at the Wheelers, which she is pretty often these days. 

Steve drops her home a couple of times a week. He asks about home each time to which she offers a shrug from the passenger seat, so he always ends up taking the long route, going to McDonald’s, buying them a meal and splitting fries in a booth, anything to kill more time.

But Max has never really answered him or Nancy or Robin. He’s not sure how much she tells the kids but every time he and the girls try to badger them, they insist she didn’t say anything. He knows these kids. Knows they’ll tell if something bad happens.

Still. No one’s exactly reassured.

Max shrugs. “He’s mostly out of it. Passed out a lot or spends most nights at some bar. He treated Billy like shit but now he’s just a mess and I guess he doesn’t want us to see how much it’s ruining him because he barely shows his face. Still yells, is still the worst, but it’s ... I mean, it’s not worse.”

Steve’s stomach flips. “I’m sorry. You and your mom deserve better.” He doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t know _if_ there’s anything else to say. 

“I’m gonna get us out of there one day,” she says firmly. “It won’t be like this forever.”

His eyes grow misty again. It’s from sadness. But it’s also because, despite everything, she’s still determined. That spark in her is still there. It always will be. How lucky is he that he gets to see its light, see it grow, and be there for it all?

“You’re right. It won’t be like this forever,” he says and he’s so glad she knows that too. “There’s so much more for you than this. Growing up is—I mean, it’s not the great ride it’s made out to be, but there’s so much good waiting for you. You’re gonna make a great life for yourself and your mom and you’re gonna do awesome things and we’ll all be rooting for you and still here with you and it’ll be great. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” she mumbles against his shirt. “You’re right.”

“Bet you’ve never said that to me before, huh?”

“Not out loud. You have good points. I just don’t admit it to preserve my street cred.”

“Your street cred with a bunch of dorks?”

“Yeah, dude. They think I’m cool too. I have an _image_ to maintain.”

“Right, right, and you totally maintained that image half an hour ago when you coloured butterflies with Holly?”

“If Holly Wheeler asks you to colour with her, you colour with her. It’s physically impossible to say no to that face. You would know, you joined us two seconds later.” 

“Hey, I made no claim about my street-cred. I gave up on that years ago.”

“I’m glad you did,” Max says. “Nancy told me a bit about what you were like before that.”

Steve is both thrilled and deeply mortified by the idea of Max and Nancy talking about him. “What did she say?”

“You were a bit of a jerk.”

“She said that?”

“No, she said you were kind of an asshole.”

He chuckles despite himself. “Sounds like her,” he says fondly.

“And then she told me it was some act and she knew you were better than that and that you were a good guy and then you proved it.”

Pretty succinct recap.

“She also told me you _punched Jonathan_?”

Steve winces at that and draws his hand back to gesture wildly, an essential part of his explanation. “In my defence—bad choice of words, okay, I’m not defending myself then, yikes, but. He punched me first. It was a thing, I was an idiot, and now it’s water under the bridge because he actually likes me now.”

“And you like him.”

His face burns at the slow way she says it. He’s not having this conversation ever, thanks, and especially not with her. “So does Nancy!” Which. Probably isn’t a great way to follow that, certainly not with his suddenly high voice, so naturally, he keeps talking. “We all, you know, like, each other. 'Cuz we’re great friends. And they’re obviously great.”

Max’s smile is huge. He would find it adorable if it wasn’t knowing and way too pleased. “They are. And they think you’re great too.”

He has no idea what’s going on—the story of his life—and while he appreciates the gesture, he already has the dumb voice in his head and Robin giving him shit for how _great_ he finds Nancy and Jonathan. 

So he gives her a tired smile and deftly changes the subject. “They think you’re great too. I know Jonathan thinks your skateboarding skill is awesome and Nancy loves having you over. And not just ‘cuz she gets to cut your hair.”

Max reflexively touches the ends of her hair. She’d loved the haircut Nancy had given her at the end of summer. Just last week, she asked Nancy for another. This time, she had it cut just below her chin. 

“It looks real good,” Steve says.

“Nancy did a great job. Should let her cut your hair if you want.”

He’s grown his hair a little. He usually gets it cut every few months but he’s been lazy about it since the summer. Naturally, it’s pissing his father off. His dad should be smarter, with his ridiculously high-paying accountant job and all, but he still doesn’t realize that showing he hates Steve’s hair is just an incentive for Steve to grow it out. 

“Maybe around the holidays,” he considers, his voice breaking on a yawn.

Max’s face twists with concern. “I should let you sleep.”

“I wasn’t even sleeping before it’s—it’s good! We’re good. Jonathan’s almost here and we’re having a great time, aren’t we? Unless this is your slick way of escaping in which case—” He stretches his arms above his head, fakes a yawn so dramatically he sends spit flying onto his knees. “Damn. I’m really tired.”

“I’m actually kinda tired too. Nancy won’t mind if we close our eyes for a bit, right?”

“She won’t mind. You’re sleeping over here tonight anyway so it’s all good.”

So they settle on opposite sides of the bed, tucked underneath Nancy’s comforter. As soon as his head hits the pillow, the fuzzy pull of sleep returns. 

As his eyelids keep drooping, Max’s voice sounds next to him. “Thanks for everything.”

“Thank _you_ for everything.”

“No, thank _you_.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank—”

He doesn’t know how far they go because the next thing he remembers, he’s half-asleep and the door flies open.

It’s Nancy. She’s breathless, a grin lighting up her face. Even in his dazed state, he can tell from the glint in her eyes what she’s going to say.

“Jonathan?” he asks, completely awake now.

“Yes! He’s downstairs, come—” Her gaze falls to Max, snoring with Nancy’s comforter pulled up to her shoulder, and she softens. “Oh. I’ll let El and Will know—”

Max’s eyes open so quickly Steve’s heartbeat spikes. “Are they here?” Like Steve, she must recognize the pure elation on Nancy’s face because Max doesn’t wait for an answer. She just beams and races right off the bed and out of Nancy’s room.

Nancy catches Steve’s gaze. They share a shaky laugh. 

“You okay?” Nancy asks. It’s weird, being alone with her in her room again, but the ache in his chest is just intense affection. “Just tired or...?”

“I’m great.” Steve means it when he says it and he means it, even more, when he spots Jonathan, looking dead-tired but completely at home as he enters Nancy’s bedroom.

Jonathan hugs Nancy from behind and looks at Steve. “Steve! Hey, your hair looks—you’re awake?”

“He told me I shouldn’t wake you up,” Nancy mock-whispers.

Jonathan presses his sigh into Nancy’s shoulder. “I also told you not to tell him that.”

“I’m very sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” Steve says with a smile so wide he feels it in his cheeks. “Welcome back, man.”

“It’s nice to be back.” Jonathan’s eyes crinkle with his returning smile. He sighs again, content this time, as Nancy cranes her head back to kiss the side of his head. 

“Steve,” Nancy says. “You waited up for Jonathan and you’re not even gonna hug him hello?”

“Nance, it’s absolutely Jonathan’s fault. He should’ve woken me up by jumping on your bed. I’m very upset he didn’t.”

Jonathan scoffs. “I’m the guest.”

“Excuses, excuses, excuses.”

It only occurs to him what the split-second look Jonathan and Nancy share means moments after they dart forward and jump on either side of Nancy’s bed. He should’ve seen it coming. Maybe he did. And maybe he’s really, really far-gone.

But none of that matters because they’re all doing this weird tackle-hug thing on Nancy’s bed. And Jonathan is finally home and Nancy’s got one arm around them both. And downstairs, through the kids’ uncontrollable laughter and cheers, his favourite noises, honestly, he hears Max cry out, “Of course I woke up! _You’re both here_!”

Max is happy. Steve is happy. Everyone is. And that’s all that matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't you ever just think about steve and max and get all 💗💞💖
> 
> thank you for reading! would love to know what you think. last part with kali and el - and lots of jonathan and will too, because i can't help myself - will be up soon!! i hope you have a wonderful day. :-)


	4. kali and el

Kali knows it would be blatantly untrue to say this is the strangest and riskiest thing she’s ever done.

But it’s worth the mention.

She takes a long look at Will’s textbook. Why he thinks she can help him with solving, according to the top of a page, ‘trigonometric identities’ is beyond her. She appreciates the thought. But looking at the letters and numbers just reminds her more how out of place she is here—in their nice small home, in this white town, with people who are Jane’s family but not hers.

She didn’t know entirely what her game plan was when she left Hawkins a few weeks ago with Jane’s address and came straight here. She just needed to see Jane. To confirm that James really was gone and that Jane was okay. She needed to see it with her own two eyes, have Jane in her arms, and just make sure Jane knew that Kali was, and always would be, here for her.

She hadn’t meant to stay. But Joyce offered her a place, and well, what better way to make sure the Byers were good people? She’d done the same with James. And now she needs to do the same with the Byers. Sure, Jane seems happy, not a single bad thing to say about them, and James had trusted them.

But there’s no such thing as too cautious when it comes to Jane.

Besides, while she loves her home with her family, each of her days at the Byers’ marked by eight AM phone-calls with Mick and whoever else is awake, and she misses them more than she can bear, it’s almost nice here. Something about the stillness of it all. She’s never been so bored. It’s kind of exciting. 

This isn’t a forever thing. She’s under no impression that when Joyce had said Kali could stay as long as she liked, she meant it. Kali also has a home, too, completely different from Jane’s but one that is still _hers_ and good and where she belongs.

Plus, she cannot imagine herself not getting too restless eventually, _too_ bored, too impatient with all the important things she could be doing but can’t from the fucking suburbs.

Except it _does_ feel important when she finally gets this stupid trigonometry problem.

“Oh, this is what you have to do!” Kali takes Will’s pencil and scribbles quickly before the solution escapes her. He leans his head towards her, watches her with a furrowed brow and rapt interest.

“I have no idea what you’re doing right now but it’s great,” Will says. 

Kali glances up from the page to look at Will. There’s genuine awe in his face. The way his eyes widen like he’s amazed reminds her of Jane. She knows at the high school they all attend, everyone thinks Will and Jonathan are Jane’s brothers by blood. It’s easy enough to believe—and true, too, that they’re her brothers—just from seeing the natural way they care for each other that Kali’s noticed in the weeks she’s been here. How Will patiently helps Jane with her English homework, only getting annoyed when she says something self-deprecating and telling her she’s wrong. How every few days, Jonathan makes waffles for breakfast and makes Jane’s with blueberry smiles just for her. (Will gets banana grins. Kali’s not sure if Jonathan knows strawberries are her favourite or if it’s a lucky guess. She appreciates the strawberry smiles she’s been given either way.)

It’s already believable that they’re siblings. But these little things too, how weirdly they look alike, makes the idea that they share blood too even more believable.

It’s nice. Really. Kali’s only a little resentful.

But goddammit, this kid’s smile is so frustratingly cute. She can’t stay resentful for long. 

So she explains her solution as best she can. They work through a few more questions. Sitting in their kitchen, him with his homework, her with Mick’s old annotated copy of Frankenstein. She’s already read it twice, once on her first bus ride to Hawkins to find Jane and to visit James’ cabin, the next her first day in the Byers’ house. It hasn’t gotten old yet though.

It’s not as awkward as she thought it’d be. Joyce is at work. Jonathan’s still at school. Something about a yearbook. Jane stepped in the shower ten minutes ago. Will is sweet, nothing to be guarded about there, but still. It’s fair that Kali would feel more comfortable with Jane here.

But it’s not so bad here.

“When I crush tomorrow’s quiz, I’ll owe it all to you,” Will says. “Thank you!” 

“It’s nothing. You’re a smart kid.”

He closes his textbook, leaning back into his seat across her. “Okay, but you just learned about identities _after_ I did and you still explained it to me. That’s impressive.”

She can’t believe she’s getting flustered at a compliment about math from a kid. Axel would give her so much shit for this. _She’s_ giving herself so much shit for this.

But she just shoots him a smile, sets her book on the table, and shrugs. “I’ve seen your drawings. That, uh, handmade fort in the woods with the rain and the bright blue? That’s impressive.”

“It was for an art assignment,” Will says sheepishly. He ducks his head, scratches his neck. “El showed you?”

“Yup. She was trying to help me get to know you guys better. For you, she showed me your art. She’s really proud of it. Of you.” It sparks a flare of pride in her to see the pure joy in Will’s smile, to know she had a part in it and that it’s clear he values Jane’s opinion so much. 

“She’s proud of _you_ too. She’s told me so much about you, her cool, older sister with a nice voice and pretty hair—” He gestures to her purple streaks. “And the cool powers and how badass you are—”

She can’t help but laugh. “She called me a badass?”

“I’m embellishing, just a little. She didn’t say it like that but she basically did! I read between the lines. Or heard between her dialogue? Whatever, the point is, I felt like I was meeting a celebrity when I got to meet you. I’m really glad you’re here. El’s happy you’re here and I’m obviously happy for her, of course, but it’s also nice getting to know you. You’re basically family, you know?”

He says it so easily. Like it’s nothing but the obvious truth and she accredits that with how brightly her heart begins to glow. She doesn’t know what to say, intense appreciation rendering her speechless.

But Jane saves her.

“How’s math?” she asks, coming up behind Will with wet hair, dressed in a yellow sweatshirt way too big for her and baggy shorts.

Kali can’t help it. “Jane. Do you think my voice is nice and my hair is pretty?”

Jane looks up from Will’s math work with a confused frown. Kali sees the gears turn and the realization light up in her eyes before Jane gasps and jabs her finger into Will’s shoulder. “You told!”

Will’s forehead wrinkles. “What!? It’s true!”

“Still!”

“It’s okay.” Kali crosses her legs underneath the table, trying and failing at keeping her smile small. “It’s nice. You don’t need to be embarrassed. I appreciate it.”

Jane looks skeptical but she stops poking Will and plops into the seat next to Kali. “I forgive you, Will.”

“I’m not sorry?”

“I still forgive you.”

Will rolls his eyes and stands, pushing his chair back with his hip. “I’m offended. I’m leaving now.”

Kali frowns. She didn’t mean for them to argue.

Jane touches Kali’s shoulder and squeezes. “He’s joking. He’s leaving because he wants to shower now. Right?”

Just like that, Will’s face splits into a grin. “Yup! I’ll be back in ten.” He turns around and leaves the kitchen.

“I feel deceived,” Kali says, mostly to herself. 

Jane giggles. She draws her hand back and pushes her hair behind her ears. From this close, Kali can smell her green-apple shampoo and is about to tell Jane how nice it smells when Jane asks, “You like him? Right?”

“Of course I do. You already know that.”

“Honest. Be honest.”

“I am,” Kali insists. She narrows her eyes. “Do you think I’m lying?”

Jane pulls her leg up onto her seat and hugs them to her chest. “No.”

“Then?”

“I think you don’t know how you think about them yet. But you don’t want me to know that so you tell me you like them. It’s not a lie but it’s not your truth,” Jane says sagely. “Am I right?”

“Scarily so.” Kali can’t help but smile anyway, reaching out to tuck a short wet strand of hair away from Jane’s forehead. “Maybe I just need more time to figure my truth out. I just—I want what’s best for you. You know that, right?”

Jane takes Kali’s hand. She laces their fingers. “I know. I want that for you too. You don’t have to be so weird.”

“ _What_?”

“Will and Jonathan and Joyce are nice! They like you!”

“I’m not being weird,” Kali insists. “They _like_ me?”

Jane shakes their joined hands wildly. “Yes! They think you’re nice too. Stop being weird!”

“How am I weird?”

“You’re not yourself,” Jane explains. “You ... you make yourself smaller. More boring.”

Kali looks at her flatly. “ _More_ boring?”

“You know what I mean! I know you’re tryna see if they’re good people but they’re not doing the same for you. Dad told Joyce a lot about you too, you know.”

Kali’s heart drops. She stiffens, a sudden tightness in her chest that comes whenever James has been brought up during her stay. She watches Jane carefully to note any changes in her expression. “Really?” 

Jane nods. “So she knows you’re good. Just like Dad. He really liked you, you know?”

And there it is in the slight wobble in Jane’s chin, how her smile starts to shake.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Kali says softly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m—” 

Kali doesn’t waste a second. She scoots her chair until it’s right next to Jane’s. Within seconds, she wraps an arm around Jane’s shoulder, combs her fingers through her hair, and bundles her up in her arms. “Don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“He did like you,” Jane says again, her forehead pressed against Kali’s cheek. “A lot.”

Kali blinks past the wetness forming in her eyes. “He’s got good taste. But we already knew that, don’t we? I know it’s not enough to not have him _here,_ but that love he had for you? You still have it. It still counts. He still loves you. That doesn’t change. Ever.”

“I’m trying to be okay. But it’s _hard_.”

Kali cups the back of Jane’s head and pulls her back to meet her eyes. She smiles wetly. Tries not to cry more when Jane leans forward and gently wipes away the tear rolling down her cheek.

“It is hard,” Kali agrees. “But you’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you. _He’s_ so proud of you.”

That makes more tears spring to Jane’s eyes but Kali isn’t dissuaded. This is part of the process. It either comes out or it stays in. Better she shares the weight than carry it alone.

Though, Kali does wish she wasn’t crying herself.

“I’m sorry I took so long to see you.” Kali holds Jane’s face in her shaky hands. Before Jane can respond, the lines on her forehead indicating she already doesn’t agree with Kali, Kali says, “I should’ve been here sooner. I got so caught up, I kept planning to visit and I just didn’t, but I _didn’t_ forget, I promise you.”

Jane shakes her head vehemently. Kali’s stomach twists in knots.

“Really, I’m sor—”

“Don’t be sorry.” Jane wipes Kali’s face again with her palms, a determined glint in her eyes. “I know you couldn’t forget me. You know why?” She lines their wrists, lines their numbers up. 

Kali sometimes hates looking at it. It’s just another reminder of all that’s been taken from her, another way she was consumed, used, and _hurt_. Other times, though, it’s a reminder of all the work that’s still left. To keep going. That her story did not start with this number and will not end there either and she is far from finished.

But with her eight next to Jane’s eleven, right now, it means something else entirely. 

“You’re always with me too,” Jane says. “But I’m glad you’re _with me_ with me now.” 

Kali can’t possibly speak through the tears clogging her throat so she just pulls Jane back into another hug, holding her close. Jane folds into her easily and tucks her face into Kali’s neck. She’s so warm and small and strong, hugging Kali back with ferocity. Her brave, loving, and enduring little sister. 

“I’m right here. I got you. You’re never alone,” Kali murmurs into Jane’s hair. “Never again. Okay?”

Kali can feel Jane’s wet smile against her shoulder. 

“Hey guys, have you seen my comb, I can’t—” Will’s voice breaks around a gasp. “Oh no, what happened? Are you guys okay? Or should I just—should I go?”

Kali draws back from Jane and wipes her face dry. “No, you’re okay. We can help find your comb.”

Will remains by the doorway, glancing between Kali and Jane hesitantly. He’s still wearing the same clothes so he must not have showered yet. “It’s fine. It’s not like I have a lot of hair. I’ll just use my fingers.”

“We’ll help,” Jane says. She stands only to loop her arms around Kali’s neck from behind, enveloping Kali in a blanket of warmth. 

“Really, I’m fine! But are you guys ...?”

“We’re okay,” Kali promises him.

“Yeah, no, I don’t believe either of you. I’m gonna make you guys some tea.”

“But your comb—” Jane and Kali start.

Will strides across the kitchen, shaking his head. “You guys. It’s just a comb. Stop being weird!”

Kali stares in awe at the back of Will’s head as he shuffles around the kitchen. He even _said_ it the same way as Jane did. “Is that everyone’s favourite insult here?” 

“He steals from me,” Jane whispers.

Ten minutes later, Kali drinks the last drop of tea Will prepared and tries not to spit it out when Jane leans across the table and flicks Will’s shoulder.

“It was in October, not November,” Jane corrects.

“It _was_ in November. Remember the snow? It doesn’t snow in October.”

“Okay, but it did snow in October.”

“No, it didn’t.”

“ _Yes, it_ —”

“How important is the specific month to this story?” Kali pipes up. 

“It’s important for setting the scene,” Will insists. 

Jane nods. “The scene. The scene in October.”

“It was _not_ —”

Will is interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and a voice calling out, “Hey guys, everyone home?”

“Jonathan!” Jane yells. She cranes her head back and squints in the direction of the front door, just slightly visible from her spot next to Kali. “We have questions!”

A few moments later, Jonathan enters the kitchen, partway through unzipping his jacket. His face is flushed pink, presumably from mid-February’s frost, and his eyebrows are furrowed. “I have answers, probably?”

“When did El learn how to ride a bike?” Will asks.

“Oh, easy.” Jonathan sidesteps past Kali and Jane on his way to the sink. “September.”

Jane rubs her temples. “No, Jonathan. No.”

“Watch mom say she learned in December,” Will says, equally disappointed.

Jonathan turns the tap on and experimentally runs his index finger through the water. He looks over his shoulder and catches Kali’s gaze. “Why is this important?” 

“Apparently I can’t hear how Jane learned how to ride a bike without knowing the exact month which none of you can agree on.”

“Oh ... kay.” Jonathan warms his hands underneath the stream of water. “I mean, I’m gonna assume El is right because she was the one who learned and would have more of a reason to know the right date.”

Jane brightens. “Thank you, Jonathan.”

Kali shifts in her seat. “But snow in November sounds more likely, doesn’t it?” 

“Thank you, Kali,” Will chirps.

Jane gawks at Kali and nudges her foot from underneath the table. “Wow. If someone told you that _you_ were wrong about when you learned to bike, what would you say?”

“I would say they’re wrong because I don’t ... actually know how to ride a bike. It just was never necessary, I guess? I have my motorcycle. I know how to drive a car, a bus, a truck.” Kali shrugs, staring into the bottom of her mug. “Never been an issue before.”

And before she knows it, Jane’s tugging Kali to her feet and Will’s grabbing all of their empty mugs and Jonathan tells them he’ll join them outside in a minute.

“Hold on,” Kali shouts as she’s dragged out of the kitchen. “I didn’t agree to this!”

“Don’t worry,” Jonathan says. “This way, we’ll all for sure remember when you learned to ride a bike.”

Learning how to ride a bike in the middle of February seems stranger than it actually is.

Kali’s coat and the mittens Jane forces her to wear combat the chill well enough. The afternoon sun warms her face as she waits on the sidewalk. It’ll darken within less than forty minutes but right now, the sky is still a clear blue. She’s certain they won’t have enough time to teach Kali to properly ride a bike but Jane and Will just got so excited, it’s worth it anyway.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.” Jonathan skips down the driveway and joins her on the sidewalk. 

She shoves her hands into her pockets with a snort. “Do I seem that nervous?”

“Just a little. But that’s fair.”

“I know it seems dumb,” she mutters, kicking at the pavement. “That _I’m_ afraid of riding a bike. I just don’t want to look—I don’t know, silly in front of her. I know I’m not like her role model but—”

“You are.” He smiles sheepishly like he hadn’t meant to cut her off but continues. “She looks up to you.”

Kali softens. “I don’t want to let her down.”

“You won’t. I don’t know if it’s the same but I know sometimes I—I don’t know, I don’t want them to see me fall. Like I’ll lose all credibility and any belief they might’ve had that I’m capable and trustworthy and that I know what I’m doing, even though I don’t.”

She knows where he’s going with this but it doesn’t stop it from striking a chord within her and god, what a beautiful harmony it creates. “But if we don’t let them see us fall, they won’t see us get back up again.” She raises an eyebrow. At his shocked smile, she preens, a little smug, mostly touched. “And they won’t know they can do the same too.”

“That’s ... exactly what I was gonna say. Is my advice _that_ stale?”

“Nope. It’s just that true, I guess.” It feels cheesy to say, but it earns her his pleased smile and the drop in his shoulders. 

“Good. And if this’ll make you feel any better, we have a game-plan.”

“Already?”

“Same as when we taught El. Don’t know which’ll do what but either Will or El will be biking in front of you while the other runs alongside you with me.”

Kali makes a face. “Why will you be _running_?”

Jonathan winces, glancing upward at the sky. “Just in case you fall.”

She wants to object. Jane can just tilt her back upright with her mind if necessary, can’t she? 

But her powers are still tentative after she’d exhausted herself last summer. It’s coming back in bursts. She’s doing so well and she’ll be even better than before in no time but Kali won’t strain her like this and risk taking any steps back.

Plus, it’s most definitely cheating if Jane helps like that.

“Alright, we got ’em,” Jane shouts.

Kali and Jonathan turn around and find their siblings returning from the backyard, each dragging a bike. The one Jane pushes forward is the slightly bigger one, black with a rusty bell Jane absentmindedly plays with. 

Will pushes his grey bike onto the road in front of Kali and Jonathan. “You wanna try both bikes and see which is the most comfortable?”

Kali ends up preferring Will’s bike. His seat is more comfortable, her feet better reach the pavement, and she’s able to get a smoother grip on his brakes. It all seems easy enough, especially when she sees Jane ride her bike and both she and Will guide Kali through how to pedal.

But then she actually pedals on her own.

“Lean the other way!” Jonathan suggests, trailing behind Kali. “No, the _other_ other way!”

“I’m leaning! It’s not helping!” Kali breaks into a sweat as she unintentionally zigzags down the road. She has great balance and comfort with her motorcycle. How could riding a bike be that different?

Apparently, it can be. The proof lies in Kali’s failed attempt at avoiding bumping into the uneven sidewalk and tipping herself over.

The bike would have fallen over her left leg had Jane not caught her from the same side. “You did great!”

Despite her embarrassment, Kali can’t help her breathless laugh. “We’ve got different definitions of great.”

On her other side, Jonathan stops, slightly out of breath. “You’re not discouraged, are you?”

“Hell no.” Kali rights herself and straightens her posture. She plants one foot on the ground, the other on a pedal. “But. You know. Catch me when I fall, please.”

The chorus of “of course” that follows, so in sync their voices sound like one, makes her laugh again. 

“Alright,” Will shouts ahead of her. “You’ve got this! Just keep pedalling!”

Jonathan nods eagerly, gripping the side of her handlebar.

“I’m right here,” Jane says and places a hand on Kali’s back. 

And with that, surrounded and safe in their warm bubble, Kali sets off.

Kali doesn’t realize she’s actually doing it until she mimics the left Will takes ahead of her and doesn’t fall over.

It clicks only when Will looks over his shoulder and beams at her. “You made the turn!”

“I—what?” She looks at her feet still pedalling, at either side of her where Jane and Jonathan match her pace but are a safe foot away from her, and then ahead at the burst of pink in the sky casting a glow over the park Will has led them to. Wind nips her face so badly that it hurts when she smiles but not enough that she stops. “I did it. I’m _doing_ it!”

Jane and Jonathan scream their cheers, still running alongside her. By the bench, several feet ahead of her at the end of the pavement, Will hops off his bike. He grins at her, waving frantically.

It doesn’t occur to her now, that the burst in her chest is her heart opening up, but it will much later when she pinpoints this moment as the moment she finds _her_ truth about the Byers. They love Jane, and they could start to love Kali, and she could love them back. She can have her family in Chicago and this too.

She’s not going to get too far ahead of herself. She still needs more time.

But trusting James had felt this easy too. Kali’s instincts are never wrong. They weren’t wrong with James and she knows they aren’t wrong now.

After she parks the bike next to Will’s, they scream-cheer and laugh and congratulate Kali. When Kali gets so overwhelmingly fond she doesn’t know what to do with herself, she directs their attention to the empty swing-sets and they’re off.

They watch the sunset while alternating between who swings and who pushes and sharing about their day. It’s completely surreal, the kind of moment Kali already misses even though she’s still in it, but looks forward to telling her friends back home when Mick calls tomorrow morning. 

When it gets pitch-black, they leave. They take up the road, Kali and Will at the very ends of the line they form, and take their time walking back. Joyce is already home by the time they return. She waits by the front steps, a thick blanket around her shoulders, a steaming mug in her hands.

Kali frets momentarily until Jonathan asks, “You saw my note, right?”

Joyce nods. “Tell me how it went over dinner. Go wash up.”

Kali lingers at the bottom step while everyone else heads inside, sharing quick one-armed hugs with Joyce before they go.

When Joyce spots Kali, she raises her eyebrows and joins her at the step. “It went well, didn’t it? I saw you ride that bike back here.”

“Your kids are good teachers. Jonathan and Jane actually ran with me as I biked.”

Joyce chuckles. “Sounds like them. You had a good time?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Your boys, Joyce, they’re—they’re just good,” Kali says emphatically. “Whenever James talked about them or you, there was nothing but love in his voice.”

“He was crazy about you too, you know,” Joyce says softly. She reaches out, lightly squeezes Kali’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Not for that. Just ... for being here. With us. And I’m not just saying that because of Jane. You’re _just good_ too, you know?”

Kali thanks the night sky for hiding the glassiness in her eyes that’s probably, totally just the wind’s fault. She wraps Joyce’s blanket a little tighter and gives in to the urge to give Joyce a half-hug of her own.

Joyce’s hugs feel as good as they look. 

Across Joyce’s shoulder, Kali spies Jane watching them through the front door. Jane just gives her a big adorable smile and two thumbs-up.

“C’mon, let’s go in.” Kali pulls back and tips her head towards the door. “There’s a big debate about when Jane learned how to ride a bike that you need to settle.”

Joyce looks confused but she guides Kali into the house with a hand over her back. “She learned in October, didn’t she?”

Kali and Jane look at each other at the same time. They burst into laughter that echoes throughout the house, prompting Will and Jonathan to return to the front door to see what’s going on.

The brothers send Joyce a helpless look to which she just shrugs. “Something about bike-riding?”

After she’s sufficiently been warmed up from the cold and her cheeks ache from all that laughing, Kali points to the dining table. “C’mon. We’ll explain how both of your memories are terrible, actually, over dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it maybe unlikely that kali doesn't know how to ride a bike? probably. but i just got very attached to the idea and the trust and closeness that comes with it felt really fitting for this part and as a closer to this fic. 
> 
> these four siblings are so special to me. i didn't intend for this to this focussed on all four of them, but kali is just so apart of the byers-hopper family that i couldn't help myself. i'd love to know what you thought!
> 
> aaaand that's a wrap. here's to all of st's wonderful sibling dynamics and to you - thank you so much for reading but also just for being here. all the best, stay safe, and be well. <3
> 
> (and come say hi on tumblr i'm @trulyalpha :-))


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